


Curls

by HaelieStorm



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Specifics inside, Vaguely suggestive fluff, apparently that's all I can do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaelieStorm/pseuds/HaelieStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- more details inside. A short, relatively silly/fluffy oneshot inspired by a random quote from the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curls

**Author's Note:**

> AU- Where Bellamy and Finn survived by hiding in Reaper tunnels and the Mountain Men never gased and kidnapped the other members of the Hundred (and the Ark crash landed somewhere nearby, although there's no proof it didn't yet). I just couldn't seem to forget about this idea- so this little oneshot was born.

The reunion with the Ark survivors was stressful for most of the 100, but none more than both Bellamy and Clarke. Not only was Clarke forced to face her mother (and don't think that wasn't a long and painful task, with a relatively unresolved end) but as leaders they were the negotiators. The issue of deciding who was in charge and the fight for the independence of the hundred fell to the two of them to deal with.

They were equal to the task, of course. They set up trade deals between the two now separate societies and kept each other alive, even managing to improve on the quality of living due to the new comforts the Ark survivors provided. The most talked about (amongst the females, at least) was the shampoo and other cleansing products that's absence had been lamented since they first reached this wild planet Earth.

However, there was one female that was not altogether happy about this development. Clarke had much preferred it when Bellamy lacked access to such things and had no choice in the humid air but to let his naturally curly hair make itself known. The fact she was sorely dissapointed to see his neatly combed hair, when she met up with him to discuss the cabin building one morning, annoyed her, but she had long since given up protesting the fact she thought his curls were (well, that HE was, if she was brutally honest) cute. She just couldn't win that battle with herself, not when all she could think about was reaching out and ruffling his hair until she got those curls back.

Since this was all that seemed to occupy her mind when she saw him, Clarke developed a tendency to stare at him every now and then. Anyone that noticed this (and there were a fair few people) naturally began to gossip about whether or not Bellamy had noticed. He hadn't- but only because he was developing tendencies of his own around the blond princess.

She smelled... sweet. Bellamy couldn't identify exactly what it was, but he was pretty sure it was fruit of some kind. And it was driving him crazy trying to work it out. Of course, that's the only reason he's taken every opportunity to lean closer to her and breathe in her scent. It only took him a week to crack.

***

They had been leaning over a pile of papers in his tent one night. Normally these meetings would take place during the afternoon, but over the last few days they'd decided it was more convenient of an evening when they were less likely to be interrupted. It had never seemed like a good idea before, as Bellamy's evening time was generally taken up by... other activities. That had been happening less and less however. Clarke couldn't remember the last time she'd seen one of the girls doing the walk of shame from his living quarters. Not that she cared, or anything.

Bellamy watched as Clarke frowned at a supply list and he was about to say something about it when she leaned forward. The words caught in his throat as the same sweet smell that had quickly become an obsession surrounded him.

"What **_is_** that?" Bellamy blurted out suddenly.

"What?" Clarke questioned, adopting a confused expression. When she looked up at him her frown returned. He barely had a hair out of place.

"The smell. You smell... sweet, like fruit. I just wanted to know what it was," he elaborated. His tone conveyed that he knew it was a stupid question, but also that it was important to him. For this reason she didn't question it.

"It's peaches. Peach scented body wash, a peace offering from my mother. It was always my favourite," she said.

"Ah," Bellamy stated simply, satisfied. Now he could go back to just being her partner- no, co-leader. Now he could forget about that intoxicating smell of peaches, of course it was peaches, and start thinking about something that was actually important. Like whether or not Clarke would taste as sweet as she smelled... _Dammit_.

Clarke had more or less ignored Bellamy's odd query, but since she had properly looked at him she hadn't stopped and was now staring, again. He noticed this time.

"Enjoying the view, Princess?" Bellamy half-joked, half-hoped.

In a sudden burst of courage, or perhaps it was carelessness and/or stupidity, Clarke burst out with, "Not as much as I used to, if I'm honest." She was horrified with herself afterwards, of course. Bellamy was confused more than anything.

"Say again," he said blankly.

"Never mind," Clarke told him hurriedly. Her cheeks reddened slightly, only making him more determined.

"What did you mean?" He tried again.

"It doesn't matter," Clarke insisted, flustered. Bellamy was fixated by this point. His obsession with her hadn't lessened in the slightest, he admitted to himself. Deciding to take a more forceful approach, he reached to grasp her wrists.

"Come on Princess, I'm not going to let this go. You know that. Just spit it out!"

Clarke shook her head and looked away, her embarrassment painfully obvious even to him. She expected him to laugh at her, of course. He expected her to say that he'd missed any shot he'd ever had with her. Neither were correct.

"Please," Bellamy added, grudgingly. He was relatively unfamiliar with the word and sounded pathetic to his own ears, almost like he was begging. For what, he wasn't sure. For her to say she liked him? Was that what he wanted?

"Fine! I miss your curls! Ever since we got our product supplies you've been combing your hair every day and I never realised I'd- I haven't really stopped staring at you since and I just..." she trailed off as she ran out of steam.

Bellamy decided that's **exactly** what he'd wanted as he registered the way his heart skipped a beat. The wide smile that spread across his face made her cringe slightly as she saw it and attempt to extract herself from his grip. He merely tightened it and pulled her closer so his lips could reach her ear.

"You miss my curls, huh?" he murmurs. By now, Clarke was struggling even harder, so he took pity on her. "Well ever since we got those supplies IVE been obsessing over the smell of you, trying to work out what it was..." Bellamy whispered in confession. He felt her relax into him and then breathe a sigh over his shoulder as he started sucking intently on her neck.

"Let go," she whispered back. Bellamy did so, his hands sliding from her wrists in favour of pulling her to his side of the table by her waist. Resting her carefully against it, Bellamy continued to blissfully run his lips along her neck, noting she was every bit as sweet as she'd smelled. Once free, her arms snaked around his neck until she could bury her hands in his hair, running her fingers through it, ruffling as she went. _Finally_.

***

On the day Clarke (with a smirk on her face, mind you) made her own walk of shame out of Bellamy's tent, Monty became a relatively well-off man within the camp. Not only had he acquired a personal slave for the next fortnight (poor Jasper lost the bet by a single day), but he also received a visit from Bellamy who told him he could use any of the products from the ark survivors that said rebel-leader had hoarded for himself. Apparently he "had no use for them anymore" as he'd put it, before exiting with a wink and a grin, leaving behind only a slight scent of peaches.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so, please Kudos&Comment. I know it isn't very well put together, but I just had to write it to get the idea out of my head. And I'm also giving thanks for Bobby's curls, which are the main reason he was one of my first TV crushes when I was a young girl (yeah and after years and years it's never gone away, *sigh*). Now I can sleep, haha :) -H


End file.
